Justin's last post, plus a recent drive through Tipton County, and a wedding notice in the newspaper, all got me thinking about Oak Hill, my mother's family's farm.
Oak Hill is a Tennessee Century Farm. It's also, according to my recollection, the oldest home in the state that's still lived in by the same family. It was established as a plantation in Keeling in 1832, although a Maclin (my mother's family name) didn't actually move there until 15 years later. By the time I was born, much of the land had been parceled off (mainly during the Depression) and the plantation had been converted into a dairy farm. The old house still stands, and I remember playing in its earthen cellar during a family reunion in the mid-1970s. Back then, my mother's great cousins, Lancelot and Helen Maclin, lived in the big house, and their children and grandchildren resided in another newer house down the hill. The last time I drove out there -- October 2008 -- it looked like my cousin Steve ( one of the grandchildren, who got married a weekend or two ago) had moved into the old house with his kids.
My mother had never spent time at Oak Hill -- she was raised all over Louisiana, and on Pedernales, an island in Venezuela, before she was parceled off to boarding school in Vicksburg, MS -- but the farm was writ large in our family lore. My grandmother, Alice Minor Maclin, had spent the summers there along with her siblings and cousins. Oak Hill -- we always called it "the farm" -- served as a makeshift summer camp during the Depression and the wars, and the cousin-children would be bussed in from Texas and Louisiana to stay there so that their mothers could more easily hold down the fort at home. Because our part of the family was so mobile (even my great-grandmother, Beatrice Maclin, didn't emigrate from England until the early 1900s), the Oak Hill branch of the Maclin family, which had resided in one TN county for the better part of the last 150 years, perfectly illustrated our idea of home. Five years ago, my brother even named his daughter Maclin.
Farm-wise, I don't know much about the Maclin crops. I remember the dairy cows, grazing between the tombstones in the old family cemetery, and a feist dog named Foo-Fi that I wanted to take home with me when I was about 7 or 8, when we stopped at Oak Hill for a few days on our move from suburban Chicago to Lafayette, LA. What I do know, however, is that I love, however distant, having some connection to the land.
Interestingly, through my mother's side of the family, I am related to all kinds of Memphis folk: Through my cousin Tempe Walker Chancellor, I am related (by marriage) to photographer Perry Walker, the Malco theater family, and my friends Adam and Jason Hoenberg and Katherine Greenwood. I'm also, according to
this abstract, related to the Broadnax jewelry family via Imogene Maclin, a cousin who was born 9 days after the Battle of Shiloh and who lived to be 101. I also have a great uncle, Jack Findley, who emigrated from St. Andrews in Scotland (by way of India) to marry a Maclin girl and ultimately build most of the country club golf courses in Louisiana, including, I believe, the
Tallulah Golf and Country Club and
this course in Bogalusa.
And last fall, after that trek out to Oak Hill (supplanted by a trip to the original Gus' Fried Chicken in Mason), my friends Jay and Chanda from Portland OR and I stopped off at the Big S Lounge for a beer. There were two guys sitting on barstools who wanted to know who we were and where we'd been, and it turned out one of 'em was from Keeling. His last name, of course, was Maclin.
After the wealth of mosquito bites I got last weekend, I was thrilled that I was able to get the grass cut a few hours before this week's dinner. Then Cassius decided to make it snow -- he took a down-filled pillow off the couch and took it to the back yard, then went nuts. Geese feathers everywhere, thousands of 'em, flying onto the patio, into the holes he'd already dug, and all over the grass. I spent a good hour raking and scooping, but the problem just wasn't going away. Then, at 6 p.m., the rains came, matting down the feathers, and soaking the patio furniture...
Last Wednesday, I wrote a story about sliders for the Commercial Appeal. While researching the article, I found out that May is designated "National Hamburger Month," and I road-tested some of the sliders around town. I interviewed local restaurateur/gourmand Karen Foster Carrier, a VP at Krystal, Bardog's owner, Huey's employee Ashley Boggs Williams, and OSOME participant Justin Burks, trying to uncover what makes a tiny burger great. 
One more thing to mention: Lorette and Hattie brought a beautiful bouquet of flowers from Whitton Farms in a mason jar that looked perfect on the table. I had to toss most of 'em into the compost heap today, but I still have this stem to enjoy. None of the blooms in my own garden are ready to cut yet -- I have marigolds, phlox, a few leftover Lenten roses, and Sweet William going strong, but I prefer to leave those blossoms on the plants. Soon enough, I'll have flowers galore. What's getting ready to bloom in your garden? Anyone here have luck with Lady's Mantle? I had a nice chat with my friend Chanda this weekend, and she's got it in her Pacific NW beds, but I think it's too dry in the summer to grow it here...
Last summer my dad would show up at my door periodically with a box of the best tomatoes I'd ever tasted. All he could tell me was that his friend Jimmy drove down to Holly Springs, Mississippi to pick them up whenever he got the call that the tomatoes were ripe and the farmer would be picking that day. Soon Jimmy will get the call that the first tomatoes of the summer are ready, so my dad and I will catch a ride with Jimmy down to Holly Springs. It was there that I first met the man who has mastered the tomato: Brad Carpenter.
He was kind enough to take me on a tour through his fields. I was endlessly astounded by his depth of knowledge of the land and his innate ability to turn Mississippi soil into delicious food. As we walked, he pulled potatoes from the ground, allowed me to taste the roma tomatoes he was trying out, and picked a dozen squash blossoms right off the vine. These ended up on my plate only a few hours later. As we walked back toward the stand, his father pulled up in a red pick-up truck and handed him a pail of freshly picked blackberries to sell. It almost goes without saying that I took a few of those off of his hands as well.
tomatoes in most grocery stores. So, next time you are down in Holly springs to take your friends to Graceland II, stop by and see Brad Carpenter, buy a few pounds of his home-grown tomatoes, and thank him for what he does.
I told everyone that I was bringing pizza. I had this dough in my fridge that I had let rise for 3 days and I believed that it was ready to be made into pizza. It was a mess. I can make pizza in my sleep, so I'm not really sure what went wrong. It was sticky and flat. So it is now 10 past 6 and I'm supposed to be at the OSOME gathering at 7ish. What do you do? Frittata, that is what. I had the pizza topping already prepared, and I had gotten some eggs from a friend earlier in the day. I used some select pizza toppings to fill and top the frittata. It was some unplanned local deliciousness.
I couldn't resist. Hattie is 5 years old, armed with a pink digital camera, a burning desire to be a "garden girl" some day, and lots of time on her hands. She knows we are blogging and she wanted to show everyone the perfect pea pod, full of plump little English peas. If you ever wonder how a kid sees the world, get them one of those new fangled digital cameras covered in rubber so they bounce when you drop them. 
Because The Chubby Vegetarian is always such a great source for meatless recipes -- and because I knew he'd just taught a roomful of Whole Foods clientele how to make veggie burgers -- I called on Justin earlier this week for an upcoming CA story on sliders. 
Twelve people -- the perfect test run. John and Justin are hamming it up for the camera. Thank god for Kerri, who, after doing some major prep work, spent the evening running up and down the stairs getting plates, forks, glasses, etc. We had some delicious food and drinks -- Justin and Amy brought barbecued eggplant sliders, Sue and Doug brought a "kilt" salad, Tara and Robert brought a radish salsa, and John and Scott brought wine and vodka. Lorette, of course, grew most of the food we ate, and brought beer. And Kerri and I made burger sliders using local beef and arugula... Everything was delicious! More on the recipes -- and the incredible 8-foot table Doug built (along with the entire patio) -- coming soon.
I will write for food! 
